


A New Kind Of Villian

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark Merlin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, dark fairytale setting, general badassery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was once a strong warlock dubbed Emrys, who lived for a very long time. One day, Emrys decided that he had waited long enough...</p><p>He'd make his King come back, by showing the world true terror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Kind Of Villian

For a decade or so, after the very last body he loved hit the ground, the warlock called Emrys wept.

For fifty years after _that_ , the warlock grieved, kicking rocks and hiding from the world as the days trickled by. One day, on a particularly sunny morning, exactly seventy-one years after Arthur Pendragon's final breath, Emrys was roasting a boar. It wasn't a particularly big boar - in fact, it was probably still a sow, and it went down without much a fight - but Emrys found himself not very hungry anyway. He thought, _'why must I wait for Arthur to come back? Why must he take so long? Must it be my destiny to sit here, and simply wait for peril?'_

Of course, the world was in constant peril. Killers of children, pillagers of the vulnerable, lying and hatred rife in sporadic little pools of goodness- well, why must Emrys wait in such a cruel and unusual world, where piglets were hunted for fun? Where trees were cut for no good reason? Where every single one of his friends were dead, and their rotting flesh fed the worms in the dirt? It was all, truly, quite ridiculous. And so Emrys put out the spitfire. He stood. Stretched. **Smiled** \- and by the Gods was it a terrifying smile. Because right then, in that very second, Emrys decided he would show the world true 'terror'.

If destiny would not allow him his destiny; nay, wouldn't even let him die, then he would do the next best thing. He would _rot_ , and he'd let the whole world rot with him.

Perhaps then, Arthur Pendragon will finally come and save it.

First, Emrys rips the ground up from his feet and builds a castle in the sky. Villages crumble, farms are destroyed and the earth is granted a crater the size of many cities sewn together.

_(A finger twitches)_

Next, he banishes his name and enslaves twelve self-sufficient villages to work in his castle.

_(Another twitch)_

He calls upon the dragon, the one who led him on a blind path all those years ago. He chains him up and suspends him from the bottom of his castle. The dragon's final breaths are spent roaring across the sky in anger and betrayal.

_('Stop!')_

He wipes out half the population of the entire planet on Arthur Pendragon's anniversary of death. All governments, councils and world-leaders are removed. Any attempts at war against him are snuffed out like a match in a storm.

_('Please, stop!')_

Fear becomes a basic acknowledgement of every day life. He's been given a name. He's been given many names He doesn't deny them, nor does he take them. He sits on a dead throne, legs crossed and fingers tap - tap -tapping. His expression never changes, nor does his stone heart get any heavier. He truly has rotten.

_(A fist clenches)_

There's a resistance group down below. Not many people are left on this tormented planet. He doesn't touch the group out of amusement. Not out of hope. Not because it's leader reminds him of Gwen.

_(What have you done? ... I'm so sorry)_

Three-hundred years later, when the trees grow black and the sky is in constant distress, and his castle is great and oh so powerful, destiny has to admit defeat. The population has dwindled to almost-nothing. The air holds a tangible bleakness. Everything has rotten to the core.

_(A gasping breath)_

_(A rush of blood)_

_(A heartbeat)_

_(A scream of vengeance. Of a world destroyed. Of hurt. Of hope.)_

Arthur emerges into the world from a water well in one of the surviving resistance groups, and scares the wits out of a young boy collecting water for his family. Arthur knows his quest, knows his role. The world has suffered long enough, and it's saviour has awoken.

Excalibur is going to be given a new home, and it's right in the centre of his stupid, tragic, beloved Merlin's chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to abandon my works 'cause I use my friend's account. I'd love to see a continuation of this or something though, if anyone wants to use this as a prompt! ^_^ - Jam


End file.
